


Please Be Careful Where You Tread

by primreceded



Category: Supernatural
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-23
Updated: 2010-03-23
Packaged: 2017-11-16 00:19:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/533391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/primreceded/pseuds/primreceded





	Please Be Careful Where You Tread

**Title:** Please Be Careful Where You Tread  
 **Rating:** G  
 **Fandom:** Supernatural  
 **Disclaimer:** All characters, recognizable settings and or themes belong to Eric Kripke, The CW, and others. I am in no way earning money or other profit from this fanfic.  
 **Char/Pair:** Dean/Sam (insinuated)  
 **Prompt:** Swamp, lights, vapor @ [](http://www.insanejournal.com/users/spnpromptcake/profile)[](http://www.insanejournal.com/users/spnpromptcake/)**spnpromptcake**  
 **Spoilers:** None  
 **Warnings:** None  
 **W/C:** 1,222  
 **A/N:** Hm. The beaver jokes are funny to no one but me, I apologize :P Second fic in 3 months so again I'm a little rusty but hopefully it is readable :)

Dean doesn’t think he’s ever seen fog this thick outside of a horror movie. It’s dense and opaque, swirls around his shins when he walks, _and is really friggin’ creepy._

The ground is squelchy under his feet, mud (at least he hopes it's mud) sticks to the bottom of his boots, weighs him down and the closer he gets to the swamp the longer it takes and harder it is to lift his feet for another step. There's been no sign of Sam or what they're after, and Dean's really starting to get pissed.

They're in Colorado, just passing through on their way to regroup at Bobby's, and Dean really had no intention on staying past breakfast. But Sam had been reading the paper, had noticed the small article about missing persons and bouncing colorful lights out by the swamp and Dean figured checking it out couldn't hurt. He should have known better, is well aware of the type of luck that follows them around, but, he'd been too busy laughing at the name of the swamp to really think on it.

"Beaver Jungle? Seriously?" He'd inhaled the coffee and was choking past the liquid in his lungs while Sam glared at him over the top of the newspaper.

"Grow up, Dean."

"Oh come on, Sam, you've gotta admit it's a little funny."

"No I don't."

Dean didn't bother arguing, just rolled his eyes at Sam and continued to snort through the rest of his meal.

Now, trudging through the muck, he wishes he'd taken the time to actually think on the case instead of making dirty jokes in his head, but hey, you live and learn. Hopefully.

“Whoever heard of a swamp in Colorado anyway?” Dean grumbles, flashlight flicking back and forth for any sign of Sam.

There’s no noise at all, nothing not being generated by Dean, and when he bellows Sam’s name it comes back to him empty, flat. It’s a little unnerving, and Dean quickens his pace as much as he can.

The swamp finally comes into view, the mud turning to water that sloshes up and over his boots, soaks into his pant legs. He's maybe a hundred yards from the murky pond when he sees the lights. They're bright, yellow and small enough to be mistaken for fireflies but they're not. These stay lit, hover in one spot in the middle of the swamp and looking at them makes Dean's head hurt.

Sam's nowhere to be seen and Dean's stomach drops a little, fearing the worst. He doesn't look into the water as he edges his way around, boots getting tangled in the tall grass that grows along the swamp’s banks. The lights flutter and seem to follow him and do very little to ease the tension in Dean's stomach.

"Sam!" He shouts as loud as he can, but the sound is muted and it's strange.

When he finally gets to the other side of the swamp the lights are there waiting for him, seem to have multiplied in the time it's taken him to get there. They're all different colors, pale shades of greens and blues, pinks. Before he can think better of it he reaches his hand out, wanting a touch, to see if he can figure out what they are. Two of the yellows come forward and flutter around his fingers, he'd swear he heard giggling but it only lasted for a second before it stopped. And then something stings, like being burned. It takes him a few seconds longer than normal to register the pain.

"You shouldn't touch them."

Sam's voice makes Dean jump and he turns to face his brother, nearly losing his balance in the moist soil and going headfirst into the swamp water.

"Jesus, Sammy, you scared the hell out of me," Dean says, eying his brother. It's hard to see him even though they're both surrounded by lights. Sam's face is in shadows and it creeps Dean out a little. He takes a step forward, and Sam makes no move towards him. "What's wrong with you?"

"You shouldn't touch them," Sam says again.

It's not Sam, though. Dean knows before he even lifts the flashlight to shine onto his brother's face that it's not going to be Sam. He does it anyway, though, just to be sure, and the beam passes Sam's shirt, the dimple in his smile. Gets lost in the coal black empty in his eyes.

When he screams this time it actually has noise, echoes back and over the swamp in a weird acoustic. It lingers, hovers in the air over the water, mocking. It follows him under when the lights fade and he stumbles into the dark.

 

“ _Dean_!” Sam’s voice stirs him and he groans, dragged back into consciousness by his brother’s strong grip on his arms shaking him. He squints into the bright light of the room around him and then squeezes his eyes back closed when it hurts too bad.

When he remembers the darkness in his brother’s iris’ he’s wide awake and stumbles out of the bed, legs twisted around the sheets.

“Stay away from me,” he snarls at the thing in his brother.

“What? Stop fooling around, we gotta go.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you," Dean replies as he scrambles to his feet. His eyes trace the room for anything he can use for a weapon but everything is most likely in the duffle at Sam’s feet. “Get the hell out of my brother.”

Sam, Sam’s face anyway, glares down at him, hands on his hip and his lips pursed in a pissy scowl.

“There’s nothing _in me_ , Dean.” Sam sighs and turns around to load his laptop into its bag. “I told you not to touch anything.”

“Damn right I’m not touching you, I do have standards.”

“Since when?” Sam snorts and turns back, laptop back slung over his shoulder. “I’m not talking about me anyway, dumbass. The lights, I told you not to touch them.”

“Yeah you did, and then you went all ‘grr’ with the black eyes--”

“That was the _lights_. Fairies, actually. I first thought they might have been Will O’Wisps but once I got there I figured out it was just a bunch of bored fairies. They were just messing with you, playing on your fears.”

“Christo," Dean whispers. Then, when nothing happens, "Fairies.”

“Yeah, it was pretty funny. You screamed like a girl and then passed out.”

Dean let out an indignant squawk and Sam chuckles before hefting the weapons duffel and heading out to load up the car. Dean watches him leave, watches him step over the salt line, before grabbing his jeans and boots. When they’re on the road again a few minutes later he turns the radio down and looks at his brother.

“What happened with the fairies?”

Sam shrugs before answering, “I just told them to knock it off. And threatened to set them on fire if they didn’t.”

“And the missing people?”

“All home safe and sound, can‘t remember a thing either. I found them in a clearing on the other side of the swamp. Having… fun.”

Dean snorts, “Man really? Sorry I missed it.”

“Yeah. Screamed like a girl and passed out.”

“Shut up.“

Dean claps his brother on the shoulder after a moment of silence and Sam grins at him.

“Good job, man,” Dean says. He pauses for a second, grins back, “Looks like you tamed the Beaver.”

“Still not funny.”

\--


End file.
